


Lost and Found

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Nope. I can’t do it, man. We’ll just have to figure something else out. I can be a high school senior with a full beard, right?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> My last entry for the Rhink Summer Ficathon! This one's for the prompt 'lost'.

“Nope. I can’t do it, man. We’ll just have to figure something else out. I can be a high school senior with a full beard, right?”

Link’s steady, even gaze in the mirror says it all, and Rhett sighs in defeat. With trembling fingers, he picks up the small scissors, eyeing them with so much distaste and distrust it’s like they’re a weapon instead of a tool.

“This whole plot is stupid,” Rhett mutters, letting the scissors hover in the air, halfway between the counter and his face. “Who the heck came up with this idea anyway?”

“Pretty sure that was you, brother,” Link says, not even bothering to hide his grin. Rhett knows he’s being ridiculous, knows it’s just hair, it’ll grow back; knows that yes, this was his idea, this is his own fault, he has no one else to blame. Still—

“Feels like I’m losin’ a limb.”

“Like a toe?” Link asks, ignoring Rhett’s scowl. “Or is that an appendage? Are they the same thing?”

“Like a foot, and would you shut up? Why are you even in here?”

“You _asked_ me to help you, remember?” Link adopts his ‘making fun of Rhett’ voice, and Rhett can feel his head start to pound. “‘Hey uhh Linkster, think you can gimme a hand with this whole beard trim thing?’”

“Well, now I’m askin’ you to get out, because you’re sure as heck not helpin’ any.”

Link’s fingers are gentle as he takes the scissors from Rhett’s hand, and the look on his face is contrite, if not exactly apologetic, the wide grin gone, only a small, sympathetic smile remaining. “I can’t reach you up there. Sit down on the toilet.” When Rhett straddles the seat, eyes shut tight and his hands clenching his knees, he hears Link huff a laugh through his nose.

“Hey, take it easy. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I know,” comes Rhett’s answer, automatic. He trusts Link—clumsy, careless, shaky-handed Link—with every fiber of his being. Link may hurt himself on a regular basis, but he’s never hurt Rhett, and Rhett knows he never will.

He opens his eyes slowly and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. Sooner we get this shot the sooner I can start growin’ it again.”

Link laughs. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.” He reaches forward with the scissors, then stops short. “Hold on a sec—take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“So I can check you out,” Link says, rolling his eyes. “So you don’t get hair all over your shirt, stupid.”

“Oh.” Feeling foolish, Rhett tugs his t-shirt over his head. While it’s up around his ears, he hears Link continue—

“—and also to check you out, actually.”

Rhett snorts at that, feeling some of the tension leave his body, the tightness in his shoulders loosening as he lets his shirt drop to the floor. “Yeah, I’m the stupid one.”

“If the giant shoe fits…” Link says under his breath, and Rhett lays a backhanded smack across his arm. “Sorry, sorry. Tilt your head up and hold these a minute.”

Rhett does as he’s told, lifting his chin and accepting the scissors for temporary safekeeping. With both hands free, Link is able to make quick work of fluffing out Rhett’s beard as far as it can go. He’s gentle, but even still, Rhett can’t help shivering.

“You okay?”

“Tickles a little,” Rhett admits. Link chuckles.

When he seems satisfied that Rhett’s beard is as fluffy as it’s going to get, he takes the scissors back and grasps a tuft with one hand, bringing the scissors, in Rhett’s opinion, _way_ too close to his face. Rhett doesn’t know if he flinches or if Link just sees apprehension in his eyes, but something has Link cupping his cheek and dropping a kiss onto his forehead, soft and reassuring.

“Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, and it’s gonna grow back.” He pulls back, looks Rhett in the eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Rhett gulps, then nods, steeling himself. “Yeah. Okay.”

Link knows what he’s doing, has years of experience cutting Rhett’s hair and his own, and his fingers are deft as he cuts, the sharp scissors slicing cleanly through Rhett’s beard. It feels like barely any time has passed before Link is brushing off his face and handing Rhett a warm, wet washcloth.

“That’s it?” Rhett asks, surprised, then looks down at his chest, which is littered with little clumps of reddish-gold hair. “Huh.”

“That’s just the trim,” Link says, picking up the shaving cream and shaking it. “Wipe off your face. You wanna do this part, or you want me to?”

Rhett considers. For all that they’ve done with one another, Link’s never actually shaved his face for real, not down to the skin. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t think he could go through with it if he had to do it himself. Something about not being able to see his face makes him able to pretend his beard is still where it should be, even though there’s evidence to the contrary scattered across his torso.

“You do it,” he decides, running the washcloth over his cheeks and chin. He tips his head back again, closing his eyes in anticipation, and just manages not to jump when he hears the hiss of the shaving cream exiting the can.

“Real still now,” Link says quietly, spreading shaving cream over Rhett’s face. The smell is cool and comforting, immediately sending Rhett back to his childhood, standing next to his dad in the bathroom, pretending to shave with a toy razor while his father shaved with a real one.

“Barbasol? Really, Link? You couldn’t spring for something a little fancier for such a momentous occasion?”

He expects the swat upside the head, but he grunts in mock pain when Link’s knuckles connect anyway.

“It’s what I had, and this ain’t momentous for me, and you’re _welcome_.”

“Is too. This is rocking your whole world, Neal, admit it.” Rhett opens his eyes and winks at Link, who just glares at him, shaking his head. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Thank you. For the help, and for—bein’ here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Link says. “Shut your eyes again, this’ll be easier if you’re not watchin’ me like a hawk the whole time.”

The first scrape of the razor against Rhett’s skin is terrifying, not because it hurts—it doesn’t feel like anything at all, really, just the barest catch of the blade on stubble before it cuts through—but because Rhett knows there’s no going back now. He knows it’s irrational to be so attached to a bunch of hair but this beard has been a part of him in one way or another for their entire career, and what if—what if that’s his whole appeal? What if there’s never been more to him than his beard? Sure, Link cut his wings and people still ended up liking him, they grew their subscriber base, but what if Rhett’s not so lucky? And never mind his subscribers, what if Jessie—what if Link—

“Done,” Link says, and Rhett opens his eyes again, blinking up at him in awe.

“You’re kiddin’ me. You just started.”

“You’ve been stuck inside your head since the first swipe, dude. I don’t know how a person can look constipated with their eyes closed but you sure manage.” Turning towards the sink, Link wets another washcloth and wrings it out, softening his words with gentle strokes of the rag against Rhett’s face. When he’s done, the rag covered in shaving cream and bits of hair, he tosses it in the sink and tilts Rhett’s head up with a finger under his chin.

“Well look at you,” Link murmurs, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a smile Rhett can’t decipher. “When’s the last time you were totally clean-shaven, anyway? Has to be what, at least ten years ago?”

“More’n that,” Rhett answers. “Started growing the chinstrap after me and Jessie’s honeymoon, so… gosh, fifteen years or so.” He reaches a hand up to touch his cheek, the smoothness alien under his fingertips. It feels nice, silky and soft, but it’s so unfamiliar, and Link’s still got that strange little smile on his face, and Rhett doesn’t know what to think.

“How bad do I look, man?”

Link extends his own hand to run a thumb over Rhett’s other cheek, down the side of his face, fingers trailing along Rhett’s newly-exposed jawline. Rhett bites back a gasp, the sensation so much stronger against his bare skin than it ever was through the thicket of his beard, and Link’s smile widens.

“Look like this stupid kid I roomed with in college, ‘cept with skinnier jeans and a lot more hair on your head.” He drops his eyes to Rhett’s bare torso and raises them slowly back up, gaze so hot Rhett can almost feel it searing into his skin. “Lot more muscles, too.”

Rhett grins. “That so?”

“Hmm,” is the only reply before Rhett’s got a lapful of Link, skinny legs straddling his own, arms wrapped loosely around his neck. A trail of kisses winds its way from Rhett’s chin up to his ear, where Link nibbles on the lobe. “Maybe when we’re done shooting I’ll grow mine out. Let you be the one who has to hide the stubble burn for a while.”

Rhett makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and pulls Link back by his hair, and then they’re kissing and _gosh_ , Rhett can feel _everything,_ the skin around his mouth so sensitive it’s unreal. Link’s lips feel so plush against his, so warm, and Link must like it too because he cups Rhett’s face in his hands and runs his thumbs over Rhett’s cheeks again and again, practically petting his face, and—okay.

Okay. So Rhett’s lost his beard. He hasn’t even seen himself without it yet and he already knows he wants to start growing it back, feels naked without it. Up until a few minutes ago, he was pretty sure it was the source of all his powers. But now, with Link all worked up in his lap, kissing and petting his smooth cheeks like he’s something soft and precious, well—maybe he’s found a few benefits to the situation after all.


End file.
